Golden Glow
by Surrendered to Christ
Summary: Young thief Bakura became quick friends with Prince Yami after their first meeting. But they were only children, and children make mistakes.
1. In the Storm

Ah yes. It's been a whole year since I've worked at all on this story. I've re-worked all the chapters. Hope you like!

I do not own Yu-Gi-Oh!

* * *

It was a still and silent night. Not a single breeze blew through the streets. The moon was hidden by dark clouds, and no stars dared to shine when the moon wasn't out. The city was quiet. It was late, and all were asleep, getting ready for daylight. 

All except a young child that stalked through the shadows of the night.

The child was around ten years old. His long, white, spiked hair hid his face from view. As he walked, he made not a sound, for fear of detection. He kept all his senses sharp, ready to flee should anyone see him.

This was Bakura, the young homeless child who would one day become one of the most well-known criminals of his time.

But the boy with the weary gaze did not know what the future had in store for him. He was only concerned about _now_, for he was very hungry after not having eaten for the past two days.

He paused as his nose detected something. _Food!_ Within a minute, he tracked down and devoured the moldy loaf of bread. Grinning triumphantly, his hunger satisfied for now, he headed for the alleys in search of a place to rest for the night.

He blended into the shadows expertly as he wandered around. He loved the alleys. They were a good place to hide, and they were always dim. The sun never brightened the narrow passageways. He headed for a niche he had found a couple days ago, hoping that it was unoccupied.

Suddenly, a noise caught his attention. He froze, flattening himself against the wall, while he strained his ears to decipher what the sound was. It sounded like… crying?

Bakura blinked, debating rather or not to go check it out. Finally, curiosity won over and he changed course, heading in the direction the sound was coming from.

He didn't have to go far. His eyes, used to seeing in the dark, quickly spotted a not-very-well-hidden figure sitting on the ground. It looked like a boy even younger and smaller than himself. The kid was huddled, head on his knees, and shivering. His upper torso was bare, save for some gold jewelry. Bakura's eyes lit up with interest. Those things looked like they could bring a fortune…

The little boy was obviously not paying any attention to what was around him, for Bakura was able to walk right up without his noticing. Only when the white-haired youth cleared his throat did the child on the ground look up.

When he spotted Bakura, his eyes went wide. With a small whimper, he backed up against the wall, trying to make himself as small as possible.

Bakura hesitated. He couldn't rob someone who looked so…pathetic. Besides, he had a soft spot for little children smaller than himself, though he would never admit it to anybody. This kid looked well off, judging from the gold he was wearing. Bakura wanted to know why he was here.

Kneeling down in front of the terrified child, Bakura spoke, trying to make his voice as gentle as he could. "I'm not gonna hurt you, k? It's alright. C'mon, let me take a look at you."

The younger boy looked uncertain for a moment, before timidly crawling forward, stopping about two feet away from Bakura. He avoided the bigger boy's eyes, instead staring at the ground as though it was the most fascinating thing he'd ever seen.

Bakura studied the child intently. The thing that first caught his attention was the boy's hair. You don't see spiky, muti-colored hair every day. For the first time, he noticed the many bruises and the cuts on the boy's slightly tanned skin. Some looked very recent, and some looked years old.

Bakura frowned. The boy was so small. What kind of person could hurt someone like him? _Of course_, Bakura thought with a sigh, _I know only too well that such people do exist…_

"Look up, kid," Bakura commanded.

The boy let out a small, fearful noise, but had to obey. He slowly lifted his head until his eyes met Bakura's.

The white-haired youth gasped slightly. His eyes…were _crimson!_ But, that couldn't be! It wasn't natural. The only person in all of Egypt to have such colored eyes...

"What's your name!" Bakura snapped harshly, backing away a few steps. He seriously hoped this wasn't who he thought it was.

"A-Atemu," the child whispered.

_Oh, hell, no._ Bakura thought. "The _prince?_ The high prince of Egypt?"

The little boy nodded mutely.

"Why are you here?" Bakura asked, while fear started to flood his veins. If he was found with the prince looking like this…well, he was dead for sure. He really ought to run. But he couldn't. He couldn't leave a child alone like this.

"I-I'm not 'sposed ta tell," Atemu whimpered.

Bakura started at him. "Look, um, did you think you could stand up?" he asked. If felt very uncomfortable to have the prince of Egypt on his knees in front of him.

The young prince sighed, and slowly stood. Even at full height, he barely reached Bakura's chest, he was so small.

Bakura stood also. "Look, d'you want to come with me? I – you won't be safe alone here."

Atemu nodded gratefully. "Thank you. It's awfully dark out here…"

A while later, they settled into the small niche Bakura had been looking for. It was, thankfully, unoccupied. Bakura had expected the prince, whom he assumed had been pampered all his life, to refuse to enter into such a place. But Atemu made no compliant. Instead, he went to the farthest corner of the little hole and sat down.

Bakura followed him, and sat down across form the child. "Would you like me to clean you up a bit?"

Atemu shook his head. "He'd wanta know who did it for me, 'cause he knows I don't know howta do it by myself. It'll get you in trouble."

Bakura blinked. "Who's 'he'? The one who did this to you?"

The prince nodded.

"You can tell me who it is. I promise I won't tell nobody else." Bakura was burning with curiosity to find out who would do this to the prince of Egypt. His fear was long forgotten. He'd decided Atemu was ok for a rich kid.

"You won't tell no-one? I'll get in trouble again. I can't tell anybody, he said."

"I won't tell no-one, I promise!" the white-haired child said eagerly.

Atemu leaned forward. "It was father," he said in a voice so soft that Bakura, who was less than a foot away, had to strain to hear.

"What!" the young thief yelled.

"Shh!" Atemu said hurriedly. "Quite!"

Bakura obeyed. His mind was racing. The Pharaoh. The ruler of Egypt did this to his own son! It didn't make sense. "Why?"

"Because he was teaching me to be a man," Atemu muttered. "He always does it. But this time, it was real bad, and I started to cry." The child hung his head. "He said I was a disgrace, I was too old to cry. I should learn how to bear pain, 'cause then nobody could touch me. He told me to get out of the palace and don't come back until daylight. I'm scared. I've never been outta the palace before."

Bakura gazed at the child in front of him. It did look like the beating had been real bad. "Does anyone know? About this?"

"No. And it's gonna stay way, right?" the young prince demanded, staring straight into Bakura's eyes.

"Yeah. I said I wouldn't tell no-one, and I don't break my promises."

"Good." Atemu sighed. He leaned against the wall, eyes starting to close. 'What's your name, anyway?"

"Bakura," the older boy replied.

"Thanks, Bakura. I was really scared back there. And cold. Are you all alone? How do you stand it out here?"

Bakura shrugged. "I just do. My parents were murdered years ago, and I've learned to survive by myself."

"Is it tough?" Atemu asked curiously.

"Well sure. But you get used to it. I useta think being the prince would be the best. But I think you've got it worse than me. At least when Daddy was alive, he loved me."

"Father doesn't hate me, he's just making me grow up right," the youger boy stated defensively.

Bakura snorted. "Whatddaever." Then his expression softened. "If you ever come need me again, just go back to that place. I pass there every day. I'll look for you, but don't you look for me. It's dangerous."

The small boy's face lit up. "Really? Thanks, Bakura."

Bakura rolled his eyes, but smiled lightly. "You've gotta be freezing, right? It's warmer if we sleep together."

Atemu blinked, then smiled. "How do I know you won't rob me?" he asked teasingly.

"Dummy. If I'd wanted to rob you, I'd have done so ages ago," Bakura growled.

Atemu laughed softly, and crawled into the bigger boy's lap and curled up. Bakura leaned against the wall, the young boy's warmth starting to lull him to sleep.

"G'night, Prince Atemu," the bigger boy muttered, eyes closed.

"Yami. Call me Yami, please. All my close friends do," the prince murmured in reply.

The young thief looked down, surprised. He opened his mouth to speak, but the younger child had already fallen asleep.

Bakura smiled softly, and closed his eyes once again. He couldn't help but chuckle lightly when he realized that he, a homeless thief, was sleeping with the High Prince of Egypt on his lap.

Well, miracles do happen.

* * *

Umm…in case anyone's wondering, Yami's about seven in this story. 

You enjoyed?

Please review!


	2. Learning

When Bakura woke up the next morning, Yami was gone. But there was a small pouch beside him, and two words engraved into the sandy ground.

'Thank You'

Bakura smiled softly, and opened the pouch. His eyes widened. Inside was enough money to last him months.

He gazed back at Yami's parting words, and grinned. "No, thank _you,_" he murmured, tightening his hold on the bag. "Thank you very, very much."

The next few days passed without any signs of his new friend, though Bakura check their designated meeting spot every day.

A week later, however, he spotted a familiar figure huddled on the ground.

"Yami?" he called, hurrying forward.

The boy looked up, a smile brightening his face upon spotting Bakura.

"'Kura! You're here!" he squealed delightedly. "I've been waiting for ages!" Jumping up, he bounded over to give the bigger boy a hug.

Bakura blinked. Whatever he had expected, it was not this. "Uh…yeah. Hi."

Yami grinned up at him, eyes sparkling. "I sneaked out," he declared triumphantly, as if it was the biggest, most important thing Bakura would ever want to know about.

"Huh?" the other youth asked blankly.

"I sneaked out!" Yami repeated, looking very please with himself. "I got past the guards, and Father doesn't know where I am."

Bakura's eyes widened. "But they'll come looking for you!"

"No, they won't. They won't even know I'm missing until sometime tomorrow, at the earliest."

"Why?"

"Because they never notice me. I locked myself in my room one time, and nobody cared enough to come find me for days." The prince looked defeated. "I'm so small. Father always tells me he wanted a bigger son, one who'll make him proud, and do all the things I can't."

Bakura felt uncomfortable, not knowing what to say. "Well…you wanna come to town with me? I was just going…"

Yami lit up. "Wow, can I? That'd be so awesome! I've never been to town before!"

The bigger boy grinned at his enthusiasm. "I'm glad you put on civilian clothes. I'd never know how to disguise you."

Yami grinned at the praise. "I thought it'd be a good idea."

"Let's do something about that hair, though…"

Half an hour later, Bakura walked into town with his friend by his side. Yami's hair was now bunched up into a short ponytail, carefully tucked so that only his ebony hair was visible. He was practically bouncing beside his friend.

"Lookit that! Wow!" Yami scampered over to a man selling kittens. "Ohhh! I wish I had one! I love cats!" the prince reached over and picked one up, cuddling it.

"Yami!" Bakura hissed. "Drop it!"

The boy looked up. "But why?"

"Just do it! Now!"

Sensing the urgency, the boy dropped the kitten gently into the basket, and allowed Bakura to drag him off. He missed the infuriated look on the salesman's face.

"What's going on? I was just hugging the kitty," Yami frowned.

"In case you've forgotten, cats are sacred. Only the rich can buy them! Hugging one that's not yours is…is…just not acceptable! Especially if you're going to but it!"

"Ahhh…" the smaller boy muttered, realization dawning.

Just seconds later, he had recovered, and was bounding off again.

Bakura spend the rest of the afternoon trying to keep track of a hyper prince who wanted to look at everything.

At last, exhausted, he and Yami made it back to their meeting place. By then, the stars were glittering in the sky.

"I had fun today, 'Kura. It was the best day of my life." Yami beamed at his friend. "Thank you."

Bakura waved a hand dismissively, blushing. "Ahh… it was nothin'. Anytime."

"Really?" Yami asked hopefully.

"Yeah. It…was fun for me, too…"

The younger child yanked the bigger one into a tight hug. "See you later, then!" and he skipped off.

Bakura shook his head, grateful for the darkness that hid his flushed cheeks.


	3. Fading Notes

Over the next few weeks, Bakura and Yami became close friends. The older boy had decided that the prince made a good companion. The child never seemed to tire when there was exploring to be done. Yami started to come more and more often, by day or by night; whenever he could get away, he would. Bakura became used to his company, and took him everywhere: the market, the pyramids, the village…all held new wonders for the young prince, and much amusement for his friend.

But there were times when Yami did not come for pleasure. With all the time he'd spent away from his studying, his progress was slowing. This was reported to his father, the Pharaoh, who, in turn, took his anger out on the boy. When the punishment had been especially bad, the child would flee into the alleys, where Bakura would find him, bleeding and crying, huddled on the ground, and take him in for the night. Sometimes, Yami spilled out all his troubles, and sometimes, he stayed silent, preferring to snuggle close to his friend for comfort. At these times, he was a totally different person from the energetic youth he could be.

On one dark night, when the sky was unleashing currents after currents of rain, and sending thunder streaking towards the earth, Bakura was curled up in a small cave. He had a small fire going, and was trying to keep as warm as possible. He hadn't gone to look for Yami. After all, the prince could not have been so stupid as to come out in the mist of this killer storm.

The boy wondered if he dared to fall asleep. If the fire went out, he might freeze to death.

Suddenly, he froze, cocking his head. He could've sworn he heard some one call…

"Oi! Bakura!"

There it was again. Raising his head, he screamed back above the noise of the storm, "WHO'S THERE!"

"No need to yell, man," the voice replied, sounding closer this time. Presently, a crouched figure came in, dripping and soaked form head to toe.

"Marik! What're you – hey! You're dripping over the fire!"

"Sorry," the bleach-blonde boy rolled his eyes. Marik was an eleven-year-old street kid Bakura had met, and befriended, ages ago.

"What're you doing out on a night like this?" Bakura asked curiously, handing the other boy a worn, ragged, and dirty, but dry, towel.

"Couldn't find a place to stay." Marik started to dry himself off the best he could. "Everywhere was taken. I thought you'd be here. Luckily, I was right."

"You're going to catch a cold," the slightly younger boy observed. Marik was shivering.

"Thanks for telling me," the other replied sarcastically.

"No problem."

The older boy decided to change the subject. "Think this rain'll let up anytime soon?"

"Nup. It's about time for a big one. It could go on for days…" Bakura poked the fire with a stick, and then threw it in, letting the flames engulf it.

"I'd hate to be out in it. I saw some kid wandering around in the alleys on the way here. The idiot looked like he was about to drop," Marik remarked, wringing out his hair.

Bakura looked up sharply. _It couldn't be…could it?_ "Where'd you see him?"

The other youth glanced up. "Alleys nearest the palace. Y'know, near where that old niche of yours is."

"Describe him." Bakura commanded, fear starting to rise.

"Who?" his friend asked blankly.

"The kid, fool! In the rain!"

"Oh…him? I dunno, didn't see him real well. Short; shorter'n you, even. Smaller'n you, too. Didn't seem like he was wearing much, which just goes to show how dumb he is – hey, where you goin'?"

"Out." Bakura was already halfway outside the cave. "Keep the fire burning." With that, he disappeared, leaving a very confused Marik behind.

Cursing extensively, in every language he'd picked up, Bakura raced through the streets. _Why the heck would that idiot come out on a night like this! _He thought exasperatedly. _No matter how bad it may be…damn, he'll die of hypothermia before I ever get to him!_

Taking every shortcut he knew, the boy weaved his way through the narrow passages. Soon enough, he was near his and Yami's meeting spot.

"YAMI?" he yelled, hoping the wind and rain wouldn't drown his voice completely. "YAMI, WHERE ARE YOU!"

He frowned. There seemed to be nobody there. _Don't tell me he was never here in the first place…_

He started down the alleyway, rain blurring his eyesight. He felt his way along, constantly, rubbing water away from his eyes. "Yami?" he called. "Hello? You there?"

He tripped.

"Oww…" the boy moaned, picking himself up. "What the hell –"

And then he froze.

Sprawled faced down on the ground was a small child, cut and bruised. He was lying very still. Too still.

Bakura recognized him instantly. "Yami? Dammit, are you ok?"

Stretching out a hand, he rolled the boy over. Yami was unconscious, and barely breathing.

Sighing, the older boy picked his friend up, holding him close. _Hang on_ he begged silently, hurrying back the way he came. _Just don't die._

Marik jerked out of his light slumber when Bakura reappeared, Yami limp in his arms.

"Wha – 'Kura, what the heck is _that!_"

"_He_ is my friend, Marik, so keep your mouth shut. And feed the fire, he's freezing."

"You are too." The older boy threw a couple sticks into the flames carelessly, and tossed Bakura the towel. "Is he the moron I saw in the rain? Why'd you go get him?"

"I told you, he's my friend. Couldn't let him die, now could I?"

"You wouldn't have done it for me." Marik pointed out.

"How do you know?" Bakura challenged, moving Yami as close to the fire as possible, and drying him off. "And besides, with all due respect, you're older than me."

"What's that got to do with it?"

"Quiet. Pass me those bandages over there, will ya?"

Marik obeyed, and the other boy started to bandage Yami up. He now kept a supply of cheap bandages around, in case the boy showed up hurt. "It was a bad one." He muttered absentmindedly.

"Huh?"

"Worse than usual."

"The cuts? Does he get beaten often? And does he always come crying to you?" Marik inquired.

"Shut up. Nobody else knows about it, so no one could help him back home," Bakura responded hotly.

"Huh. Kid looks well off."

Bakura glanced up. "Promise you won't tell no-one about this?"

"Why?"

"Just promise. Then I'll explain."

Marik nodded, curiosity taking over. "Alright. I promise."

"This is the high prince of Egypt," Bakura said grimly.

The was a moment's pause, and then,

"EXCUSE ME!" Marik half yelled, half squeaked, eyes widening dramatically.

"I know. Scared me at first, too. But he's an ok kid, and I don't mind helping him–"

"Bakura, are you out of your mind! If someone finds him here…like that…unconscious…"

"I know, I know, but who'll come out here on a night like this? No-one's ever come before."

Marik groaned, slumping down. "I can't believe this…"

"Believe it."

xxx

It was morning when Yami woke up. Although, if you looked outside, you probably wouldn't have been able to tell night from day. It was still storming like crazy.

The child blinked hazily, opening his eyes. The sound of rain reached his ears, accompanied by light snoring.

With a small moan, he tried to push himself up, and failed miserably. There was no strength left in his arms.

"Yami? You awake?" Bakura murmured, coming into his line of vision. "Damn, kid, you scared the hell outta me. Why were you out in such bad weather?"

"Ba…kura…" the boy's eyes filled up, and, gathering what strength he had left, he rolled over, and grabbed the other into a hug. "You found me…"

"Uh…yeah……hey don't cry, ok?" Bakura patted the child's back awkwardly. Yami rarely cried so hard, and it unnerved him.

"I was scared…" Yami's voice was muffled. "It was so cold…"

"Of course it was cold! It was pouring like hell! Why were you even out!"

"I…father kicked me out…"

"On a night like that? Does he _want_ you to die!"

"He was…drunk…" Yami whispered, whimpering slightly. "There'd been a banquet, and he got drunk…and I got such a bad score on that last exam…"

"Hump. Who'd have guessed the prince gets treated like that?" a new voice interrupted their conversation.

Bakura glared at the older boy. "Shut it, Marik."

Yami, startled by the unexpected voice, twisted around, almost rolling straight into the still crackling fire. Bakura caught him and pulled the boy back onto his lap.

"Who…?" Yami asked, weary and confused.

"That's my friend Marik. I guess you gotta thank him. He told me he saw a kid wandering around some alley, and I guessed it'd be you. Only you'd be dumb enough to be walking around instead of finding some place to curl up."

"I thought you'd be nearby…I was trying to find that place you took me the first night, but all the streets look the same…" Yami blushed.

"You're not bad for a rich kid, I guess, Marik commented. "Not all uppity and stuck up like most of them are. 'Kura, got anything to eat?"

"No. You wish."

"What time is it?" the youngest of the three asked, looking outside.

"I'd guess…oh…short time before sunhigh." Bakura replied, looking thoughtfully up at the gray sky.

Yami sighed. "I should go…we have visitors coming today, and they'll miss me if I'm not present."

"You sure? I thought you said they usually don't notice."

"Well, no; usually, the only people who might miss me are my instructors. But when visitors come, my presence is _required."_

"Oh, alright, then. I'll take you. You couldn't find you way back if your life depended on it."

Yami blushed again. "Thanks."

Later, Bakura came back to find Marik poking the fire with one of the last sticks left. "'Kura, this thing's gonna go out soon. What do we do?"

"Shouldn't I be asking you, elder of mine?" the younger boy asked with a smirk. "Nothing to do but let if die, I guess."

Marik leaned back. "That kid…Yami, you call him? He'll be a good Pharaoh. He seems fair, and he cares about the people."

"If his father doesn't kill him first." Bakura rolled his eyes. "But you're right. If he does take over the crown, Egypt will be in good hands."

"Dunno why his old man hates him. He's a nice kid, if a bit senseless…"

"He just doesn't know how to handle it in the streets, Marik. I think the Pharaoh wanted a son with muscles."

"Well, he _is_ scrawny." Marik shrugged. "And sensitive. That's could hurt him when it comes time to become Pharaoh. It might overwhelm him."

"Aw, I think he's tougher than he looks. He just doesn't like making his father mad."

"If you say so."

xxx

_All things must end_

_Be they good or bad_

_Sweet or bitter_

_Joyful or sad_

_And when their song stops_

_We may look back_

_Forget, perhaps_

_And then,carry on_

_Our steps may be heavy_

_Our burden full_

_But move on we must_

_As the rivers do_

_New songs arise_

_In a melodic train_

_Are the tunes pleasing?_

_Or do they cause pain?_

_One way or the other_

_Is for you to decide_

_Make use of this power_

_On it, thy future rides_

Bakura sat in the center of the market place, invisible among the crowd. When the song ended, he clapped, as the others did, but the lyrics held no special meaning for him. He did not understand, for inside, he was still a child.

xxx

In the late harvest season, when the weather was turning cold – or, at least, as cold as it ever got in Egypt – Yami showed up in the dead of night.

There wasn't anything unusual about the meeting – Bakura had long ago gotten used to the prince showing up at odd hours – except that when Yami came so late, it was usually because he had been beaten a short while ago. But this time, the young boy bore no fresh wounds.

The other thing that altered Bakura to the fact that this encounter was anything but ordinary was this: Yami's face held a look of utter seriousness. In all his time spent with the prince, Bakura had never seen the boy so grave. And he knew, deep inside, that something was terribly wrong.

"What's going on?" the young thief hissed, worried. He hated not knowing something he wanted to know.

"Last afternoon, when I came to see you, something went wrong," Yami replied in a depressing voice. "I'm sorry! I didn't mean for it to happen!"

"Just tell me what's going on!" Bakura groaned. When Yami got emotional, he could ramble on for hours.

"I was spotted," the boy whimpered, tears starting to spill. "Seth – a priest – he spotted me leaving. When I got back, he grabbed me and hauled me off to my father. Father asked me what I'd been doing."

"Did you tell him?" Bakura squeaked, fearing for Yami's life as well as his own.

"I – I said I'd wanted to go and see the village. He didn't believe me. He said, 'Is this why your progress has been slowing?' What could I say? So I lied, I said, I'd been sneaking off to the market to look at all the things. It wasn't all a lie, was it? But now, he's forbidden me to leave _at all!_ He's got guards around me all hours of the day. And he stuck the priests to my side too. I can't even get to the bathroom alone."

"So how did you get here?" Bakura inquired, glancing around as though he expected one of the high priests he'd heard so much about to jump out roaring like a wounded panther.

"I used magic," Yami replied gloomily. "I learned the sleeping spell some days ago, and I used it on the guards. Once father finds out, though, he'll put restrictions on my magic, too. But I just _had_ to tell you! I made sure I wasn't being followed." Suddenly, he launched himself at the older boy, and started sobbing onto the other's shoulder. "I'm so sorry, 'Kura!"

"It's ok! I'm not mad or anything!" the white haired boy said hurriedly, patting the prince gently on the back. Then a thought struck him, and he grabbed the child roughly by the shoulders, pushing him back until he was holding him an arm's length away. "Hold on a minute. This means…this means you won't be able to come anymore…right? Or can you…can you still find some way to sneak out?" He was unable to keep the hope out of his last sentence, and he watch Yami intensely, hoping against hope that the child would reassure him, and tell him, "Silly, of course I can still come! I'll just have to be more careful!"

But nothing of the kind happened. Instead, Yami hung his head, avoiding Bakura's eyes, and remained silent. And his silence answered the question better and more painfully than any words ever could.


	4. Destiny

Bakura wondered aimlessly around the dim alleys. It was daytime, but he didn't have the urge to go anywhere else. He had considered the marketplace, but as he had learned the last time he'd visited, it was now a totally different experience. Yami was gone. There was no longer any more joy at new discoveries around every corner, no longer any squeals of delight…

No longer a friend to accompany him.

Bakura sighed, covering his eyes. It had been two weeks since Yami had left, and he was more depressed than he could remember ever being. It wasn't fair! He had finally gained a friend, a person who took joy at simply being with him. A person who looked up to him, and found him a good companion. Why? Why had Yami being taken away?

What had he done to deserve this?

Suddenly he snapped his head up to face the sky. "I hate this!" he roared, uncaring of who might hear him. "I hate this! Take it away! Make it stop!"

He collapsed onto the ground, tears springing up uncontrollably. "Make it stop. I – I don't want to have ever met him! It would be so, so much happier for the both of us. Please, please…it's too painful…"

I was the first time he'd cried in a long, long time, and he cried until he could cry no more. He fell asleep there, in that little corner, exhausted physically and mentally as well.

Unbeknownst to him, his desperate plea had been heard. And, seeing the little boy so broken hearted, the divine being did not have enough heart to just leave him there when he knew he had the power to help.

"_What you wish for is reckless, child. But I cannot blame you for not knowing. How could you know the true extent of what has happened these past few weeks? Your heart is yet too tender, your spirit yet too soft, and your mind far too young. You can not possibly know or comprehend._

_You want a second chance? I shall grant you one. Perhaps then you can truly appreciate a friendship…no matter how harshly it is broken."_

There was a brief, stunning golden glow.

Xx

Bakura woke up in a dimly lit alley.

What was he doing here?

Ah. Yes. He had cried himself to sleep.

But that had been in the middle of the day. How could he have slept until night?

And why was he so hungry? He had only eaten that morning. No matter how depressed he was, his natural survival instincts have not dulled.

Well, no matter. He would just have to get up and find something else to eat…

Hold on.

Strange. He did not recall falling asleep here. In fact, he had not come by this part of the alleys since…well, since Yami had left.

And furthermore…

He frowned up at the night sky. It had been clear-weather for days. Why was it suddenly so cloudy? Where was the crisp winter moon?

Strange indeed.

He pondered this puzzle for a few more moments, before deciding it wasn't worth the time. With a brief shrug, he headed out, stalking through the silent streets.

_It was a still and silent night. Not a single breeze blew through the streets. The moon was hidden by dark clouds, and no stars dared to shine when the moon wasn't out. The city was quiet. It was late, and all were asleep, getting ready for daylight_.

It was a windless night. He walked carefully…

_All except a young child that stalked through the shadows of the night._

…after all, sound traveled well on windless nights. It would be foolish to act too rashly. A random police guard on duty might catch him, and decide to turn in the young thief for some extra credit.

_The child was around ten years old. His long, white, spiked hair hid his face from view. As he walked, he made not a sound, for fear of detection. He kept all his senses sharp, ready to flee should anyone see him._

_This was Bakura, the young homeless child who would one day become one of the most well-known criminals of his time._

He glanced around wearily, nearly jumping when he heard his stomach give a loud growl that was magnified a thousand times in his alert and sensitive ears. It felt like he hadn't eaten in two days.

_But the boy with the weary gaze did not know what the future had in store for him. He was only concerned about_ now_, for he was very hungry after not having eaten for the past two days. _

Then he paused, sniffing at the air. Unless his nose deceived him…

_He paused as his nose detected something. _Food!

…he had just picked up a scent of some food. Eagerly, he followed his trusty nose, looking rather like a hound as he picked up his pace with his nose still in the air. Ah! There it was, tossed out behind a local restaurant. Excellent. He hadn't had wheat bread in a while.

_Within a minute, he tracked down and devoured the moldy loaf of bread. Grinning triumphantly, his hunger satisfied for now, he headed for the alleys in search of a place to rest for the night._

He grinned to himself. Operation Satisfy Hunger was a success! Now to get some rest…

Oh wait. Hold on. Again.

Why was he tired? He just got up!

And yet…it felt like he'd been up and about the whole day.

He looked around, and suddenly got hit with a major sense of déjà vu. He could have _sworn _he'd been here before, gone through those exact motions, eaten that exact loaf of bread…

His feet shifted. Alarmed, he looked down with side eyes as he right foot came up, went forward at bit and came back down, only to have his left foot copy it an instant later. He began to walk forward _completely without wanting to!_ His legs were moving on their own!

Seriously panicked now, Bakura considered screaming out loud, then decided against it. Possessed or not, a thief was still a thief, and he knew tricky little spirits liked to play tricks on people and leave the moment they attracted attention, just to make the person look insane. Well, he would not fall for the darn spirit's trick. In a battle of wills, _he_ would win. He'd just let the spirit take him wherever it wanted to go. It would get bored eventually.

And so, Bakura walked on, his feet acting with a mind of their own. But as he walked, he began to get the feeling that although he didn't control his feet, he knew _exactly_ where he was going. It seemed as though he had walked this same path before, on this same night, and he was retracing his very steps.

Such a laughable, impossible theory. He shook his head at himself for the foolishness.

And then, a brief while after his feet had led him to enter the alleys again, they stopped.

Just as he was wondering if the spirit had finally decided to leave him alone, he heard it.

_Suddenly, a noise caught his attention._

Instinctively, subconsciously, he pressed himself against the wall.

_He froze, flattening himself against the wall, while he strained his ears to decipher what the sound was._

It was a sound so familiar that he recognized it almost instantly. His heart clenched, and he suddenly found it very hard to breathe.

_It sounded like… crying?_

Yes. Crying.

He knew now. Perhaps he had known from the beginning, and just did not want to acknowledge it. Did not want to admit it was true. But there was no more denying the truth. Not when it was thrust in his face. Yes, he _had_ been here before. _Had_ walked those very steps, _had_ eaten that very loaf of bread, _had _heard what he was hearing now.

It was crying indeed. To be more specific…

…Yami crying.

It was same night he had lived all those months ago. The night he had first heard those sorrowful cries. The night he first met the crowned prince of Egypt. The night he'd first met the boy who would come to mean so much to him. Who would eventually break his heart and spirit.

And now he had a choice. Now he held his own destiny in his grasp. He could make it so he would have never met Yami.

He had been given a second chance.

But the choice…was such a terribly difficult one to make.

* * *

Yep. The story's a bit better now. At least I caught some of my old grammar mistakes. OO I couldn't believe I didn't know how to do quotations correctly!


	5. Memories

_I can fix it. _

"_That's right,"_ a soft voice seemed to brush past his ears, at once there and not. He didn't have to look to know that there was no one beside him. _"You can change things. From now on, each day you live will erase one in the other universe. Each new memory will replace one you had. You can recreate your past. And soon, you will have no memories of him at all."_

_I can fix it. I can make it so that he'll never have to get hurt by me. I can make it so that...so that the days we lived together will be erased forever. I can fix it so that this sadness in my heart will leave!_

_If, one day, we'll just end up parting, then what is the point of my going to him now?_

_There is no point._

_There is NO POINT!_

_I can avoid the pain. I can spare him. I can spare myself._

_I can turn around right now. He'll never know what he missed._

_And in time, neither will I._

_I can turn around._

_I can turn..._

_I can..._

_I..._

A breeze blew past, meeting only empty air. It caught the sound of the crying child, and carried it forth into the inky dark night.

Xxxxx

The village was a normally busy place, jam packed with people at any given time of day. But he had never, in all his years, seen it _this_ full. Every inch of available space was occupied, the people were pressed in against each other and the collective mass of moving bodies swayed with a nameless rhythm, like a beast in its element, independent of any laws.

"Marik!" Bakura hissed, having spotted his friend by some sheer miracle. He ducked down and shoved his way through any cracks he could find, squirming over to the blonde's side. "Marik, what's going on here?"

"Hey, 'Kura! I have no idea, but this is great business!" Even as he spoke, his left hand shot out and deftly relieved an unfortunate man of his money-pouch. "We'll be able to eat like kings!" His hidden pockets were already bulging with loot, making him look comically bulky.

Realizing that he'd have to get a move on before Marik either cleared the vicinity or inadvertently alerted someone to their activities, Bakura also began stuffing his pockets with ease, his curiosity about the mysterious crowd quickly forgotten.

Suddenly, a hush began to spread, starting from the palace-side and spreading out. The thousands of people grew silent, though few knew the cause of the abrupt shift in mood. In mere minutes, the beast had fallen still, waiting uncertainly, the people collectively holding its breath. The silence seemed to magnify, and pushed down against the masses, keeping the atmosphere heavy and somber.

Then words began to spread, from the head up. They ripped through the crowd like a tremor through water. The syllables began to be passed, from one person to the other, whispers overlapped, creating a dark gust of murmuring wind. Four words. Four words, repeated over and over and over again. For Bakura, near the edge of the crowd and far from the front, it sounded at first only like the roar of distant wind and waves, before it took on distinct form.

"_...t...e...de...pri...s...n...ce...a...pr...ad...the pr...'s d...the princ...d...the prince...is de...the prince is dead. The prince is dead. The prince is dead!"_

Bakura dropped the bag he had been clutching with a clatter that was swallowed up by the building cry, and lost to the darkness forever.

Xxxxx

"They say the exact cause of death is unknown," Marik informed him nonchalantly later that night, tossing wood into the fire that warmed the cave they were sharing. "I bet it was murder, though. Probably some assassin got in."

_Unknown_. The though flitted through his numb mind, taking a moment to process. Then he bitterly stifled the urge to laugh. '_Unknown' my ass. No way the almighty Pharaoh would announce that he beat his own son to death._

_But that doesn't matter. It wasn't all his fault._

_It was mine._

_I could have saved him. I _did_ save him. This...this was the day he came to me in the rain. I saved him that day, didn't I? But I wasn't here this time. And..._

_...and I killed him._

_It was my fault. It was my fault . I-_

_I didn't mean for this to happen! It was supposed to make us both so much happier. A few more months, and I'll have forgotten him forever. A few more months, and he'll be just the prince again. Some rich kid who died. I-_

_I don't want to remember. I don't want to know who he was. I don't want to know. I-_

_I want to forget!_

_I-_

_I-_

_I... _

_I'm the only one, aren't I?_

_I'm the only one who knows him as a child. Not a prince. Only a child, who loved to play, loved to laugh, loved to smile. I'm the only one who saw him skipping down the village. I'm the only one who saw the first time he wore commoner's clothes, and ate commoner's food. I'm the only one who saw his excitement at the first time he ran through the rain, the first time he held a fragile little sparrow in his hands._

_I shared his joy. I held him. I led him. He hurt me. But he also gave me so much in return._

_I want to forget. But I also...I also want to remember forever._

_Because if I forget, who will know?_

_And even as I'm here now..._

_I'm forgetting, aren't I? I'm replacing my memories, and soon..._

_He'll be truly gone._

_And..._

_Oh god, what have I done?_

* * *

Here it is! Chapter 5, after a long, long delay for which I profusely apologize. Its rather short, but the next part doesn't fit into here. I've got the whole thing mapped out, just a matter of writing it now. 

Thank you for reading. Please read and review! Support always spurs me along :)


	6. End Song

Ha! Yes, I finished this! I knew I would! It only took...

Two years, four months, and twenty five days.

Man, that's…kinda embarrassing. Talk about procrastination…

Well, what's important is that I did it, right? (-sheepish grin-)

Anyway, thanks for all your kind support. I'm going to get cracking on those other stories now. I hope you enjoy this last chapter of _Golden Glow_, and please leave a review! Merry Christmas, and sayonara for now, minna-san!

* * *

The world swam into darkness as his eyes lost focus. He never felt his body hitting the floor, nor did he hear Marik's frantic, worried cries. His world shrank rapidly, until it contained and orbited only one thought, chasing itself around and around in redundant circles. 

_Oh God, what have I done? What have I done, what have I – _

The howling wind outside picked up speed, tightening and contracting, flexing all the power Nature in her ancient wisdom had seen fit to give it, melting, morphing, stretching into a tornado, a snarling vortex of air and water, fire and earth, clawing its way up to heaven and down to hell. He was swept up into this marvelous monstrosity, in body and in spirit, and torn apart, his flesh ripping away from his bones, liberating a single spark from the prison of clay. The tiny, jewel-like flame shivered, and yet was unafraid, for it knew that Nature in all its fury and animosity could never lay a single finger on it. It danced through the raging winds, darting through the silk-thin strands as carefree as a child might run through a field of grass and trees. It giggled as it gallivanted, for the world was its playground, and it knew it had none to fear.

Then it paused, quivering in the air, for someone had seen it, and called it by name.

_Little light,_ the silent voice called again, affection lacing its tones. _Come. We have much to do yet._

The light stood still for a split second more, more complying. Master had called, and He who knew its name must be obeyed.

The spark approached the Being shyly, at once reluctant and eager. It was scooped up gently, into a palm the stretched as wide as the Galaxy, and yet could easily fit into the dust-powder of a flower's summer pollen. The hand carried it easily through the wrinkles and folds of Time and Space, before setting it down once more into a little container of sand and water.

The light felt around, before humming contently. It knew this house. Yes, it was happy here. And it effortlessly found its proper place, and settled down.

_"…kura? Bakura? Bakura!"_

And his eyes snapped open.

"Man, 'Kura, I thought you were dead! What the hell are you doing, falling asleep here? You looking to get killed?"

Bakura lay sprawled on the cold stone ground, panting harshly, heart thumping like a drum and sending blood pounding through his ears. A second later, he saw Marik leaning over him, looking like a bandit dressed all in black.

Marik's lavender eyes were narrowed critically as they scrutinized his appearance like a doctor might his patient. "What the hell's the matter with you? You look like you've seen a ghost –"

Bakura was paying no attention to the ramblings of his friend. His attention had been drawn past Marik's shoulder, where he was given a stunning view of the cloudless, dark indigo Winter sky, spotted with dancing stars and stretching all the way to the distant horizon.

A thought had already formed in his subconscious, and was trying heroically to fight past layers of fog and mist to enter his awakening mind. It pushed at its limits, causing broken fragments of words to form at the tip of his tongue, piecing themselves together until –

"There're no clouds."

"…haven't seen you for days, and – I'm sorry, what?"

"There are no clouds!" the white-haired child repeated viciously, seizing a hold of Marik's shirt and yanking ruthlessly on it, causing the boy to stumble forward and end up face-to-face with him. "It's clear! There are no clouds!"

"Let go of me, you lunatic!" Marik snarled, shoving Bakura off, voice cracking with a half-failed effort of maintain an air of collected calm. "So what about the stupid clouds? It's been clear weather for days!"

"Is it winter?" Bakura demanded, sitting up properly. "Have the rains passed?"

"Months ago. What's _up_ with you today?"

"Marik!" Bakura jumped up and seized his friend's abused collar once more. "Marik! Is the prince dead? _Is Yami dead_?"

"_Let me go!_" Marik hissed, flinging the boy away, now clearly unnerved. He backed up a few steps, keeping a wary eye on the half-deranged child in front of him. "You've got to stop doing that, _forever!"_ He wondered if he should run away. Bakura's eyes held a look he didn't like; they were wild and uncontained, crimson sparks adding a rather demonic hue to his normally doe-brown orbs.

"Answer my question!" Bakura ordered, refusing to be sidetracked.

"Then stay the hell away from me! No he isn't dead, what's the matter with you? And keep your voice down, we'll we accused to blasphemy if you keep that up!"

"He's alive," Bakura whispered, ignoring Marik once more. "He's _alive_!"

"I probably shouldn't ask this, but…_what?"_

"He's alive!" Bakura cried out joyfully, throwing his arms around the stunned boy. "Oh, God, Marik, he's alive! I remember!"

And remember he did. All his memories were fixed firmly back in place, from the night when he'd first taken that fateful turn towards the sounds of the tortured weeping, to the night he and Yami had parted ways. He remembered now the weeks of depression as well as those of incalculable joy.

He was whole again.

"Sheesh, Bakura, let me go. One minute you're ready to bite my head off, and the next you're hugging me like you've just found a million dollars."

"I did better than that," Bakura replied, grinning ecstatically. "I did much better."

"…sure," Marik replied, eying his friend worriedly. He tilted his head slightly, before adding a hesitant inquiry: "You sure you're not sick?"

"I'm not. Not anymore." Suddenly feeling the need to run, Bakura grabbed the taller boy's hand. "C'mon, Marik, let's go somewhere. Let's go somewhere grand and big and filled with nothing but gold!"

"You…want to go to the palace?"

"Sure! Why not?" Bakura yelled, impatient to start the journey. He didn't know where he was going, and he couldn't care less. It was only a matter of getting there. "Let's go to the palace!"

"Oh – wait a minute, we'll get killed!"

"Then let's go somewhere else!"

"Fine. But someday, we'll get inside that palace, you know."

"Yeah. Someday." _Someday, I'll get good enough that I can go in. So you won't have to come out, Yami. You've risked it enough times. It'll be my turn soon. So just wait in there. And someday, I'll be able to enter your world as you did mine._

"Well, you coming? We've still got a ways to go."

And the two raced off into the soft cotton night, their futures unraveling like a river ahead of them.

The footprints of the Game King and the Thief Lord would come to fill the legends of generations. Their deeds would stir up in both children and adults the ancient aches of desire for a romantic journey, one filled with adventures and noble deeds, with traitors and heroes, with mountains and rapids, tigers and fairies, with friends and adversaries, all traveling the line between black and white. They would die in an ancient land, but their stories would stretch on for millennia to come, passed down from parents to children, stretching across the wide expense of the sands of time.

And thousands of years later, they would reawaken in a new age, their souls sealed off in chambers of glowing gold. Their paths would cross innumerable times before their songs ever ended.

But that is another story, and shall be told another time.


End file.
